


You Never Said Goodbye

by Persiflage



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: (It's Michael's Death in 2:10 - The Red Angel), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Death Mentioned, Missing Scene, POV Character of Color, PoV Michael Burnham, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 20:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Missing scene fromPerpetual Infinityin which Tracy Pollard confronts, then comforts Michael about her death.





	You Never Said Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write some more wlw ficlets for Michael, some featuring Michael with Tracy Pollard or Katrina Cornwell, as well as Philippa Georgiou (Prime or Mirror). This is the first of them.

“You didn’t say ‘Goodbye’.” 

Tracy Pollard says the words through gritted teeth, and Michael knows the other woman well enough by now to know that she is in for a tongue lashing.

“No,” she agrees wearily, stepping back from the doorway to allow the medical officer to enter her quarters. She doesn’t want the telling off to be heard by all and sundry as they pass by.

“Does my friendship mean so little to you?” Tracy demands, clearly seething with anger. “I know you were raised by Vulcans, but I thought you’d been around Humans long enough to know better than to treat your friends like this.”

It’s been three hours since Michael woke up in sickbay to the knowledge that some of her friends and her foster brother had actually killed her, so she isn’t sure why Tracy would want to include herself in those ranks. She walks across to her bed and sits down, feeling listless and weary. 

“I’m sorry,” Michael says, aware that this is a feeble sort of response. 

Tracy sits beside her and asks, “Why did you do it, Michael?”

“I figured that if I told you the plan, you’d tell me off, or try to stop me.”

“No,” Tracy says patiently. “I know why you didn’t tell me. Why did you agree to Spock’s plan?”

“It seemed like the only way to get the Red Angel here,” Michael explains.

“I thought Vulcans were all about logic,” Tracy says, her tone more caustic now.

Michael stares at her. “What do you mean?”

“If the Red Angel turned up every time your life was in danger, you’d have been seeing it regularly every year since you joined Starfleet.” She glares. “I’m a medical officer, remember, I’ve _seen_ the records of your injuries, and your mother would’ve been turning up an average of three times a year over the last eight years if that was the sole reason for the Red Angel’s appearances. Your logic, or Spock’s, was severely at fault.” 

To Michael’s surprise, Tracy wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “You needn’t have died, today, and especially not in such a gruesome fashion.”

“I –” Michael finds she cannot get the words out, the lump of emotion in her throat seeming to prevent her from speaking. She wheezes, tears starting to her eyes as she struggles to breathe, too. She’s vaguely aware of Tracy speaking, but she’s unable to hear her clearly, her entire focus on her inability to breathe. She’s suddenly back sitting in that chair, down on Essof IV, the toxic atmosphere destroying her lungs.

She thinks she must be hallucinating when golden light envelops her, but moments later she feels the cool press of a hypospray against her neck, and she finds she can breathe again, although she has to take several wheezing breaths to prove that to herself.

When she can focus again, Tracy is leaning worriedly over her and she realises that she’s in sickbay – that Tracy must have initiated a site-to-site transport to bring her here.

“Michael.” The older woman speaks her name softly, Michael’s left hand clasped lightly in Tracy’s. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. Breathe, sweetheart, just breathe.”

Michael focuses her attention on her breathing, feeling the jitters of panic subsiding as Tracy talks her through a slow breathing exercise, their hands still clasped, and the medical officer’s expression tender.

Eventually Michael is able to breathe normally again. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Tracy briefly presses her lips to Michael’s brow. “Let me get you back to your quarters. I gave you a mild sedative to calm your panic attack, and you’ll be feeling pretty sleepy fairly soon.”

She helps Michael down from the biobed, then walks her back out of sickbay, and to the nearest turbolift. They don’t talk on the way back, but Tracy doesn’t let go of her hand and Michael feels deeply comforted by the contact. 

Back in her quarters there’s still no sign of Tilly, and Michael vaguely wonders where she is, but is feeling too sleepy to focus on that question. She lets Tracy help her out of her uniform and into her sleepwear without a moment’s embarrassment for her brief nudity as she changes her clothes. Something has shifted – both within herself and between herself and Tracy – and although she’s not sure what the shift means, not precisely, she feels safer than ever with the other woman.

“C’mon, love, let’s get you into bed before you fall asleep where you stand.” Tracy pulls back the covers and Michael climbs in, feeling a leaden weight of weariness in every limb.

“Could you – would it be okay –” Michael can’t seem to get out the question she wants to ask, but Tracy seems to understand anyway.

“Of course I’ll stay, at least for a little while.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She tucks the covers around Michael, then leans down to press a kiss to her brow, before fetching a chair and taking a seat beside Michael’s bed.

The last thing Michael sees before sleep claims her is Tracy’s tender, yet concerned, expression as she sits beside her bed, their hands clasped again.


End file.
